as the foghorn blows for the third time
i ask the question once again …
where lies the hands of power
and bringing consciousness back into my material being
i find two hands that look very much
like my own

nomind, i don’t mind

i thought i was a thinker
but Rodin proved me wrong
he bronzed the thinker

after pondering on that
while observing the foot traffic
at the gallery for a long moment …

i wondered:
as an observer of the observers
am i hunter or prey?

being and somethingness

*I have no idea why I say the things I do.
Sometimes I just trust my voice to sing.*